The Way the Hustle Goes
by ElfieWrites
Summary: Can Helga find the courage to ask Arnold for a dance? And other adventures. Part 2 added as of 8/26 - check it out! Still a work in progress.
1. The Way the Hustle Goes

Author's Note: inspired by "Authority Song" by Jimmy Eat World and therefore loosely based upon it. Good song by some local boys. ^-^ 

----- 

Down on Maple Street one Friday morning, a new little diner had opened, and it was quickly filled with a mob of youngsters. The diner really was geared toward an older generation, one who would enjoy a 50's-style. The brightly checkered floor tiles and red walls made the inside seem dizzyingly larger than it looked from the outside. The booths and tables were arranged carefully around the edges of the dining area, to leave the center open for dancing, if the patrons felt moved by music blaring from large speakers connected to an old-fashioned jukebox in one corner. Along one wall were classic video games, and all around the edges of the room were odd bits of memorabilia and other interesting collectibles. 

But being a Friday, most adults were at work and if they hoped to visit the place for a thick, old-fashioned hamburger and a luxurious malted shake, they had to wait until that evening. However, that Friday just happened to be a teachers' inservice day, so all the children of PS 118 were on holiday. Nearly all of the fourth graders, as expected, could be found at that little diner, along with kids of various other ages. 

Sid, Stinky, Park, and Gerald were all busy at the arcade games, the sound effects swallowed up by the blaring music from the jukebox. Kids had been pumping quarters into it all morning, delighted with the novelty. Out on the dancefloor, Rhonda, Nadine, Peapod Kid, Joey, Sheena, Eugene, a Campfire Lass or two, and a handful of sixth graders all were dancing, or trying. Harold, of course, was seated comfortably in a booth, working heartily on his fifth burger. Curly was perched on a table, a metal condiment basket balanced on his head and a malt glass held aloft in one hand, the other arm tucked against his side, looking in all his glory like a demented Statue of Liberty - or Insanity. No one bothered him to ask. 

Even Helga Pataki was there, hidden away in a dark booth in a back corner. This really wasn't her scene, she thought, but her friend Phoebe had coaxed her to come along. Well, maybe it had a lot to do with Phoebe mentioning that Arnold would be there. That was where her focus lay at the moment. Arnold was wandering slowly around the room, drink in hand, looking at all the interesting wall decorations. Helga sighed as she stared at the back of his head. 

The song on the speakers ended and then a familiar Beach Boys tune began. Rhonda was heard over the music screeching, "_NOT FUNNY AT ALL!_" 

Helga turned her attention away from Arnold long enough to see if she could spot who had ruffled the princess's feathers. The boys at the arcade games were all laughing, and Sid had a proud grin on his face. Unfortunately for Helga's sense of entertainment, Rhonda only glared at Sid, sniffed, and turned away to return to her booth. But Helga watched as Phoebe, who had been standing shyly near the gamers, was approached by Gerald. Some words passed that Helga couldn't make out, but both were soon smiling and walking to the dance floor. 

Helga sighed and pulled out her locket. She spoke sadly to it, "My love, how unfair it is that I see so many opportunities to make my feelings known to you, yet I push them aside and continue to torture you unfairly. Even Phoebe, the shyest girl in the school, can make her feelings known to Gerald and find comfort near the presence of her loved one. My dearest, how can I keep myself from such satisfaction? How can I be so torn between honesty and holding up my mysterious yet brutal exterior?" 

She looked up again at the back of the one she loved, and sighed again. "How can I be so scared of you, my love?" 

Suddenly she stiffened. "No, today will be the day. I will show the world that I'm not scared any more." 

And with that resolve she stood up, hearing the music shift again, to another happy, vaguely familiar oldies tune. She steeled herself as she drew nearer Arnold, who was busily reading over a framed newspaper article about some baseball player. Helga stopped just behind him and took a deep breath before asking softly, in her nicest voice, "Hey Arnold, I was ... I was wondering if ... if you'd like to, um, dance?" 

She waited for a response, but several long moments passed without a reply. She suddenly realized that he wasn't mad, or turning her down, he hadn't even heard the question! The music was too loud, and she had spoken too softly. Taking another deep breath, hoping she could say it a second time, Helga raised a hand to tap him on the shoulder, but Arnold suddenly turned around. Both jumped at the sudden contact. 

"Uh, hi Helga. Did you, uh, want something?" Arnold asked hesitantly. 

Helga closed her eyes and opened her mouth to say those words again ... but something inside her broke. The steel had snapped and she suddenly slipped back into her normal act. "Yeah, Football Head. You're standing in front of the napkin dispenser." She leaned around him to violently rip out a handful of napkins and stalked away. 

"Sorry Helga," Arnold shouted at her retreating back. 

Helga returned to her corner, napkins clenched tightly in her fist. Plopping heavily into the cushion, she sighed one more time, in complete and utter frustration. 

"Why?" she growled. "Why does it always go wrong? One day, my love ... one day maybe I won't be scared any more. One day you'll realize my secret purpose to all my bitter and cruel actions. One day you'll know how obvious I was all along, when it all sinks into your dense football-shaped head. Oh my love, but for now this is the way the hustle goes," she admitted to herself sadly. 


	2. The Way the Fourth Grade Ends

One of the happiest days in any elementary kid's life was fast approaching: the last day of school. The bubbling excitement throughout the entire school didn't grow unaided by Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class. It was all he could do to keep the kids calm enough to continue teaching through the last few weeks. He had planned to allow them a special free week, the very last week of school, but he thought he should at least use the two weeks before that for learning. The kids themselves however, in their restless states, had other ideas.

Finally the Friday before the last week of school came and Mr. Simmons announced to the class, "Okay everyone, next Monday we will be having a math test and a geography test so be sure to study for those. However, after the tests we will have some free time so be sure also to bring something special to school to occupy your time. For the rest of the week we will have more free time plus some special projects as well."

On Monday everyone took the tests without much complaint, eager to be rid with the last of their learning to move onto the free time. Arnold had come to school with his chessboard and a thick pile of cards in white envelopes. As soon as all the tests were turned in and Mr. Simmons announced that the kids were free to do what they wished, Arnold picked up the pile of cards and began distributing them. They were all invitations to his birthday party on Friday after school, one for every student in the class. After passing them out, he returned to his seat amid a chorus of thanks for the invitations, promises to show up, and congratulations that he was lucky enough to have his birthday on the very last day of school, as if the freedom of summer was a gift all on its own. He pushed his desk against Gerald's to set up the chessboard when Mr. Simmons spoke up.

"Oh, Arnold, I have a special favor to ask of you. Could you please take those books in the back of the classroom to the library? I promised to have a student return them today and I hoped you would be responsible enough to do it."

"Sure Mr. Simmons," Arnold responded agreeably and immediately went to stack the books in his arms.

Once he was gone Mr. Simmons stood at the front of the classroom. "Class, I had an idea to do something special on Friday. You all now know that it is Arnold's birthday, and I thought perhaps we could have a party. Now, I don't want anyone to feel less special than anyone else so it won't be a party only for Arnold but for each of you, since we couldn't have a class party for each of your birthdays. I also thought it would be appropriate since it's the last day of school. So we'll have snacks and drinks and decorations and it'll be a wonderful surprise. However, we mustn't tell Arnold, or it won't be as special for him. So I want you all to promise yourselves not to tell him a word about the party. But if you'd like to bring snacks of your own to share with the class on Friday, feel free to. To make you all realize how special you are and how I'll miss all of you very special people over the summer, I'll have some surprise gifts unique for each of you. All right, please return to what you were doing before I spoke and remember - don't say anything about Friday to Arnold."

When Arnold returned to the classroom, he didn't notice the new excitement running through his classmates, since it blended in so well with the general happiness of the impending summer break. He sat down to his chess game with Gerald and waited for the lunch bell to ring.

-----

Every kid was good about keeping the surprise party secret. Only one incident occurred, involving Sid of course. He had come up behind Arnold to watch the chess match. It was only minutes before the bell signaling the end of school was to ring, and Arnold hoped to beat Gerald yet.

"So Arnold, what are you going to bring next to class on Friday?" Sid asked. Arnold turned around, but Sid could see Gerald behind him making faces and waving his hands.

"Huh? I guess I'll bring this chessboard again, and maybe a Purdy Boys mystery or two. Why?" Then Arnold noticed the strange look of horror on his friend's face. "Are you okay, Sid?"

"Oh, oh, I'm fine Arnold. Uh, I was just, uh, remembering how my toilet got backed up yesterday and, uh, the repairman can't come until next Friday. Yeah. It's pretty nasty. Yeah," Sid assured nervously.

"I'm sorry about that Sid. It must be getting pretty bad at your house. Well, I think there's an extra room available at the boarding house if your family needs to stay there for a little while, until it gets fixed."

"Uh, thanks Arnold. I'll keep that in mind." The bell rang, conveniently giving Sid a chance to bolt for the door and escape the awkward situation. He knew he was no good at keeping secrets for very long and a horrible liar.

Arnold just shrugged and cleared the chessboard before folding it up and setting all the pieces in his backpack. He turned back to Gerald. "So are we still on for the baseball game today?"

"Yeah, as long as Wolfgang doesn't come break it up, of course."

"All right. Well, I have to go to the boarding house first but I'll meet you at Gerald Field later," he explained as they climbed on the bus.

"Okay man. I won't let the game start without ya."

They both stepped off at the same stop, but parted ways as each boy went to his house. Arnold ran into the boarding house and upstairs to his attic room, where he dropped off his backpack and searched for his bat. Running back downstairs, he called out to his grandparents that he'd be back for dinner. As he darted past the kitchen, he caught a whiff of the chili his grandma was already cooking and as he closed his door and jumped off his stoop wondered whether he ought to have told them he'd eat at Gerald's tonight. It wasn't that his grandma was a terrible cook, it was just that he could remember the last time he had chili - the past three days - and his digestive system groaned in protest at just the memory.

He was thinking about that as he ran around a corner and collided with a solid mass. He landed on his back with an "Ooof!" and sat up to see Helga Pataki sprawled on the cement in front of him.

"Arnold?! I mean, watch where you're going, Football Head!" she spat at him as she stood up brushing off dirt from her dress.

"Sorry, Helga," he apologized as he stood up himself. "Are you going to the baseball game too?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Doi! Of course I am! Why else would I be carrying a glove and a catcher's mask? You're a genius, Arnold-o."

"Whatever you say, Helga." He turned and walked away. He was going to invite her to walk with him, but he figured from her usual blunt sarcasm his niceties wouldn't be appreciated.

Helga caught up to him anyway. "Hey, Arnold, I was just wondering ... uh, why did you invite me to your birthday party anyway?"

Arnold looked surprised at the question, but kept walking. He glanced at Helga to see that the look on her face was true curiosity. "I want you to come as much as I want anyone else to be there."

For a moment she was silent, and he snuck another glance to see that she looked surprised. "Uh, thanks..." she said softly. Another pause, and then, "As if I would show up at the birthday party for a stupid Football Head. It's not a big deal."

Arnold wasn't entirely surprised by her sudden change in moods. He had noticed over the years that she did it often, as if her personality was split in two and the sides struggled with each other to control her mind. "Whatever you say, Helga," he said for the second time that day. "I don't know, I feel like turning 10 is pretty special. I've been looking forward to it for a few months. Aren't you excited for your birthday?"

"No, I'm not all that excited about it. It'll be just another day like any other. My parents don't ever even notice it's my birthday until I tell them. The only person who will celebrate it is Phoebe. Maybe your birthday is special for you, but for me it's no holiday." Now she looked sad, disappointed. He wanted to say something, but before he could think of the right thing to tell her, she announced, "Oh look, we're here. Good luck, Football Head, as if it'll do you any good while you're playing against me!" She ran off, shouting insults to her teammates.

Arnold just stopped and stared after her, unsure what to think of her. As happened so often to him, Helga had opened up just the tiniest bit for the briefest moment, then returned to her usual harsh exterior. He really could picture in his mind two tiny Helgas within the big one's head, literally fighting each other over a controller that looked like it belonged to a video game system. Sometimes the nicer little Helga managed to grab the controller, but the meaner one was stronger and just a bit larger, enough to regain possession of the controller quickly. He cheered for the smaller, nicer Helga.

Gerald suddenly startled him out of his daydream sequence. "Hey man, are you going to join our game or just stand in the middle of the field and watch it?"

"Oh, sorry, Gerald. I was just thinking." He followed his best friend to the bench to wait for his turn to bat, still watching Helga when the game got dull. Whenever her eyes met his though, she just gave him the usual glare. He sighed. Bully mini-Helga still had firm control, and it didn't seem as though that other Helga would win again today.

------ 

Throughout the week Mr. Simmons allowed the kids their free time, but also a few simple projects. On Wednesday he had everyone write a short summary of what each kid planned to do over his or her summer, and his or her expectations and goals for fifth grade. Everyone then read these aloud to the class. On Thursday there was a period of "creative expression" during which each student either painted or created something out of clay. Mr. Simmons planned to keep those projects to remind him of each and every "very special student" he had the pleasure of teaching.

Finally the big day came. On the bus, Arnold was too excited to notice that many of his classmates had bulging backpacks or were carrying some small grocery bag. Once they reached school, Gerald pulled Arnold aside so that his friend wouldn't notice that all of his classmates had gone to class early, before the bell had even sounded. Everyone else hurried to Mr. Simmons' room to unload their snacks and quickly prepare.

It wasn't long until the bell rang and Gerald and Arnold began walking to class.

"Hey, the halls seem a little empty today, don't they Gerald? I wonder why," Arnold mused as they approached their classroom.

"I dunno, man," Gerald said, trying to hide his grin.

Arnold pulled open the door and was greeted with a loud chorus of "Happy Birthday!" He froze, mouth agape.

"Come on in Arnold and join the party," Mr. Simmons motioned.

Arnold grinned widely and continued into the classroom. The desks were all pushed into a long row around the edges of the room with food and drinks set on them, so that the middle of the classroom was clear for everyone to stand around and mingle. Everyone immediately set to excited chatting and munching (of course everyone had conveniently skipped breakfast in order to load up on junk food – except for Harold, who felt missing any meal was unnatural) in the center of the room.

Arnold had a plastic cup of soda and was wandering down the plates of snacks. He paused over a platter of cookies coated thickly in pink icing and picked one up to try. He waved Gerald over. "Hey, try these. They're really good. I wonder whose mom made them."

Gerald also ate one of the pink cookies. "Mmm, mmm. Yeah these are great!"

Standing not too far away from them, Helga heard them over the chattering of her peers and spun around to watch them enjoy the cookies. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she sighed. "Oh, my love, little dost thou know that those cookies were made by my own loving hands, especially for your enjoyment. If only I could tell you that I made them as a symbol of the love I wish I could give to you, as freely as a small sugary pastry, and as sweet to behold."

As usual, she heard a wheezing sound from behind her left shoulder and forcefully whipped her clenched fist backwards. The familiar sensation of metal bending, and flesh giving way was felt through her knuckles, and she stepped away to go find Phoebe and maybe grab some chips along the way.

No one ate much lunch, if any at all, but quickly scattered about the playground to eagerly burn off all the sugar acquired that morning. And after they returned to class, Mr. Simmons produced a large box, which he placed upon his desk.

"Now class, I'm very sad that this is the last day I'll be your teacher," he paused to sniffle, "and you're all such special people. I'm so glad I'll have your beautiful pieces of art to remember you all by. Each of your projects shows the unique person you are, so I'll be able to forever remember each of you for that. I thought I should also give each of you something to remember me by, and as a gift for being such a wonderful class," he sniffled again. "Each gift is something I tried to carefully choose for each of your special tastes, but no gift is better than anyone else's, just different. I'll be calling you up to get each of yours now. Nadine, yours is right here. When I was vacationing in Hawaii over winter break I caught this butterfly and mounted it, and I thought you might appreciate adding it to your collection…."

Soon each kid had his or her own little memento from Mr. Simmons. Harold got a whole little booklet of coupons for ice cream from the Jolly Olly man, good for the entire summer. Phoebe and Rhonda each received small gift certificates for stores: a bookstore for Phoebe and a fashionable little place at the mall that specialized in dazzling accessories for Rhonda. For Helga, a tiny, pocket-sized leather-bound notebook with a mini pencil to match, and inside was folded an entry form for a nationwide poetry contest. Mr. Simmons had handed it to her with a knowing, encouraging smile. "I hope to hear, or rather, read, a lot from you in the future, Helga," he had said. She had said nothing in return, but had tucked the little book into her jumper pocket and knew it would be full of words soon. It was much more portable than even her smallest little pink book and therefore could be easily taken with her when she was stalking – err, running into Arnold and inspiration hit her.

Not long after Mr. Simmons had handed out the last gift, the bell signaling the end of school rang and the class poured out, grabbing leftover snacks along the way. "Goodbye class! Have a great summer, full of your own special fun! I'll miss you!" he yelled over their heads as they streamed out, tears welling in his large eyes. He turned with a sigh towards the mess from the party that he would have to clean up: leftover cups and plates and balled up napkins and crumbs. He started when he saw that Arnold was still there, casually making his way to the door, but pausing at Mr. Simmons' desk.

"Bye, Mr. Simmons. Have a nice summer. And thank you," Arnold said before he turned to open the door.

"No, thank you, Arnold. I hope you have a wonderful birthday."

Mr. Simmons watched Arnold leave with a soft sigh, before turning back to the mess once again. He smiled sadly as he began picking up the first empty cups.

------ 

Arnold was anxious as he changed into a clean set of clothes later that afternoon. His party was supposed to start soon: in five minutes, when the more punctual guests like Phoebe and Gerald would show up. His grandparents and the boarders were still busy on the roof making last arrangements to the party set-up. Fluttering banners and brightly-colored streamers were draped everywhere, and lanterns on poles were set up all along the edges of the roof. Long folding tables were along one side, full of drinks and snack foods and with a large space in the center where the cake would be placed. On the opposite edge was an empty table where guests could leave their gifts. Light, upbeat music was playing from one corner, setting a happy atmosphere. Plenty of room was left in the center of the roof for dancing and mingling.

As predicted, Gerald was the first to show up, closely followed by Phoebe. But soon the roof was full of kids. Many adults of the community appeared as well. Mr. Green, Mrs. Vitello, and Harvey all stopped by to participate in the festivities and wish Arnold a happy birthday. He took many moments to step back and just watch the happy people and smiled to himself. He felt very loved, and delighted that he knew so many interesting people. Plus he was simply excited at the prospect of turning ten.

According to his grandpa, his official time of birth was 7:35, exactly. His grandpa could never remember exactly why the number stuck in his head. He usually just trailed off, muttering something about the time of the sunset that day in the almanac he had read in the waiting room, but Arnold didn't mind. He was just kept checking his watch, looking forward to what seemed to him to be a very special time. It just seemed important that it would feel to him to be the exact minute he became ten years old. And now that time was fast approaching. He kept checking his watch more frequently as it became 7:32, and then 7:33.

He was just looking up from his watch, which now read 7:34 and 31 seconds, when he stumbled back just slightly. Helga was standing before him, clutching a small, flat box in her hands. She looked nervous, an uncommon emotion for him to see on her face.

"Hey Helga. I'm glad to see you came."

She smiled slightly. "Yeah. But I have to leave soon, so I thought I'd give you your present now. I was actually supposed to be home by 7:30 because Ol-ga's home, and … never mind, it's not important."

At her mention of 7:30, Arnold had glanced at his watch again and saw that was now just past 7:35. He looked up to see Helga thrusting her present to him. He wondered about that coincidence of time and happenstance as he gently pulled the box from her trembling hands.

"Thanks, Helga. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, sure Football Head," she replied before disappearing through the crowd, headed for the stairs.

He looked down in consideration at the box now in his hands, wrapped in dark blue paper with a pattern of silver stars. His thoughts were put on hold when his grandma jumped up on a chair, sounding a small bugle. The crowd parted before a huge cake being borne by his grandpa and Mr. Hyunh. Arnold quickly tucked Helga's gift into a corner, unsure of whether he should open it in front of everyone else when she wasn't there herself (and unsure too, for a brief moment, of whether he should really open it at all).

He nearly forgot about that particular present as he went about blowing out candles and slicing cake and opening the presents of his other guests. But as the cake diminished and the crowd dwindled and finally was gone, he remembered it. He said his thanks and good-byes to the last of the guests and then helped his grandparents clean up. Finally he grabbed the box from its hiding place in the corner of the building and disappeared into his room.

Sitting on his bed, he peeled away the wrapping paper to reveal a plain white box. Wondering what kind of nasty practical joke could be inside, he very carefully pulled away the lid. But nothing leapt out at him, or squirted him, or smelled disgusting. On top was a handmade card, with his name and "Happy Birthday" written across the front. He opened it and read what was inside:

"You expected something nasty

But instead I got artsy

I thought I would say

That I really think you're okay

Don't ask about this poem

I really can't write them

But because my present sucks

Also included is 5 bucks

Buy yourself something nice

Like cream that is iced

-Helga"

He laughed quietly at the poem, but smiled. He was glad she did something nice and put some effort into his gift. It meant something to him. Especially when he lifted away the tissue paper that was under the card, revealing the present Helga thought would suck. He grinned when he saw it. It was a frame, made out of clay and painted, in the shape of a football, complete with texturing. Inside was a picture of Mr. Simmons' entire class. Even Helga was smiling, if only slightly. It was still better than her usual scowl. 

He looked over at the other gifts strewn across his floor: the CD's, books, gift certificates, toys, and other assorted purchases. Turning back to the frame in his hand, he grinned again. Maybe Helga thought it sucked, but that frame was the most meaningful thing he had gotten all night. It was the best gift of them all in its simple way.

He made room on a shelf above his bed to prop the frame up and smiled at it one more time before crawling into bed. The age of ten was starting off quite happily.


End file.
